We were on the Kuwaiti border in an area we called “Cochise,” directing airstrikes on Iraqi artillery positions. Several times the enemy had opened up on us with rockets and artillery. They were getting better by the minute, so we moved to another location. When they finally came at us, the tracer fire from the 12.7mm machine guns on their armored vehicles was intense, but they were shooting high. We were about 100 meters from them, armed mostly with M-16s and light weapons. One Iraqi tank company with mechanized infantry flanked us while the other made a frontal attack. I put two marines up in a water tower to direct any supporting arms I hoped to get. But they quickly became targets, so I pulled them back. It was a very desperate situation. Our air support was elsewhere, and we were out of our own artillery-support range. We fell back by leapfrogging small groups in our Humvees, each one providing what little small-arms fire it could for the moving unit. After 11 hours of fighting, it was apparent we would be captured or killed. I ordered a withdrawal to Mishab, about 20 kilometers south. A few days later we joined the Saudi forces that retook Khafji. The Iraqis had wanted to take the town and capture Americans. But all they got were some MREs,a good fight and some Madonna tapes my marines left behind. They had their hands around our throats, but couldn’t pull it off.
